Likewise, I Say to You, There is Joy in the Presence of the Angels
by TheManyFacesofJester
Summary: All Q wants is to become a full angel again. All Bond wants is answers about the strange Quartermaster he knows nothing about. Some beginnings occur for the weirdest of reasons. Based on the art prompt by Dhampir72 for the 00Q Reverse Bang.
1. Chapter 1

"What?"

"I said, do you actually have a name?" Bond asked, having made himself comfortable in the leather chair to the left of the Quartermaster's desk. He seemed more bored than actually interested, his head tilted against the backrest lazily.

"Why?"

"Small talk."

Q hummed in response, but still did not answer. He remained brooding over the new gun he was about to hand to the 00. He had some concerns with giving Bond a new one when Q bloody well knew Bond was just going to chuck it into a ravine the first chance got.

"You still haven't answered me." Bond said, interrupting Q's train of thought.

"You still haven't given me a reason to," Q murmured distractedly. Maybe he could attach a bungee cord. Then if he tried to throw it there was a possibility of it swinging back and giving Bond a right whack. Pleasant thoughts.

James leaned forward, in a decent mood for conversation. "Well, you know mine. It would be fair for you to tell me yours."

"Yes, but you never really told me your name. Someone else told it to me for you, which doesn't count."

"So someone else has to tell me your name?" Bond asked.

"If we're being fair." Q answered. The field agent choked a laugh down.

"So who knows your name then?" Bond could hear Q release more air from his nose in irritation.

"Jesus Christ." Bond wasn't sure if the Quartermaster was saying the phrase out of exasperation or sarcasm but he sounded too genuine for both.

"Of course. So I have to pray to get your name."

"Don't be stupid. No one prays to Jesus," Q replied quickly while picking up the gun and finally handing it over to Bond. The field agent took it and began looking it over in his own secondary inspection. As he did, the Quartermaster returned to one of the various computers which occupied his desk. He really would like if Bond would just leave, but apparently the agent had plans to irritate him further into the afternoon. Why did he need his name? The other agents didn't care. It was just Q, and that was the end of it. Now Bond needs a proper title? Who did he think he was? He can't just demand to be told. Things which are private are kept secret far longer when people don't think they're meant to be private.

"If you don't tell me I might just have to invent one for you." Bond had finished looking over the gun yet still remained in the chair he had claimed as his. Q never liked that chair anyway, but he felt an acute sense of indignation at Bond wandering in and commandeering it.

"Why are you so keen on calling me another name? Sick of feeling I'm your superior?" Q suggested. There was a sharp laugh from James. "I am your superior, whether you like it or not, which means I can keep my name to myself."

"I don't believe someone who types 0's and 1's into a computer really counts as my superior." Bond mocked. Arrogant sod. Of course he wouldn't. "So that rules out that. I'd just like to know."

"Why?" Now Q was getting seriously irate. He really didn't feel like getting into this today. Or any day, for that matter.

"That's a question, not an answer. I could look in your personal file." Bond said flippantly. Q turned sharply around from his computer to face Bond. He would normally explain that a field agent cannot access the files, but this was 007 he was talking to, and somehow he would find a way. "I'm not leaving until I get a name." He sounded like he meant it.

"Qemuel." Q said it fast and undertone. The next second he wished he'd lied. He should have said Henry, or John, or Riley, or anything. It shouldn't matter, but he hadn't said it since he'd fallen, and it sounded foreign on his tongue.

"Excuse me?" Bond asked, leaning forward.

"That's my name."

"No it's not." Q remained silent while Bond looked on unconvinced. "Your name also starts with a Q? No. There is no way that is your actual name." There was an awkward pause as Bond tried to figure out if the Quartermaster was in earnest. "Qumel?" He finally attempted to repeat.

"Qemuel, you savage. You ask these things and then can't bother to get them right," Q snapped. Bond looked like he wanted to laugh at the name but the tone of the room had changed. The quartermaster was back to his computer, typing too fast to be typing anything at all. He looked tired instead of irritated, and James could tell he wanted him to leave.

'Qumel.' Why even ask if he was going to butcher it? Q aggressively typed nothing in particular into his computer as the 00 found his way to the door to leave. It felt almost sacrilegious to hear his name not only spoken, but spoken incorrectly.

"I like it. It suits you." James told him as he stood in the doorway for a brief second, then left, shutting it behind him. Q stopped typing as he left. He liked it? It's not as though he needed the field agent's approval, or even wanted it. But he felt better, and he wished he didn't. Bond liked his name, or at least had the decency to lie about approving of it, and Q felt warmer somehow, if that made any sense.

After the door shut and he was sure Bond had left for good, Q stepped away from the gobble-de-gook he had written on the computer. He felt warm and sick and displeased all at once and could do nothing about it. He'd told James Bond his name. His real name. And he honestly didn't know why. Even his file didn't say his real name. It said Jasper Roberts, which was technically his birth name. His parents gave it to him the day he was born. Well, the second time he was born. He could remember the second time with immaculate precision. It was almost unsettling, but he remembered being conceived and remembered then spending eight and a half months in the womb, and he could remember every detail of his birth, yet he couldn't remember the first. The first time wasn't a birth though, but a creation, as far as he believes. One day he did not exist, and the next one he did. It was the only time in his life he was as in the dark about a concept as everyone else. His brothers and sisters received the same treatment. Not living and then life.

"Hm," Q hummed curiously. He hadn't thought of his siblings in quite a long time. A lot of them were still with his Father, but the other third was down here, with him. Of course, that third wouldn't remember any part of their former lives. Qemuel did, but that was a special circumstance since he wasn't technically supposed to be alive. Even if he was he shouldn't have been able to keep his memories. The other angels weren't, but then they were placed more gently on this earth than he was. They were given the chance to adjust.

The Quartermaster tried to shake the memory off. He wouldn't even be thinking about any of this if Bond hadn't brought it up. Now he was stuck monologuing which felt both stupid and unnecessary at once. Attempting to return to his always important work, Qemuel absentmindedly raised his hands to feel the soft wings that rested, invisible, on his back. Three times the size of himself, they folded were always nicely when out of use and remained hidden to others' eyes as long as he kept them that way. He sorely missed using them. Once he had flown past clouds and heavens to rest among stars in the vast expanse of the universe. Now he stood puttering in an office with dozens of computers and a leather chair that was quickly losing the body heat 007 had left on it. Simply infuriating.

But that would change, slow but surely. One day he would get the chance to fly again without the constant fear that a random human being would shoot him out of the sky with a shotgun. Someday he could soar back to heaven, back to home, back to his sanctuary. He'd be different though. He'd be a full angel but without those rules that got him here in the first place. Those weaknesses.

And all he had to do to get there was look at the current history of fallen stars. Every single one, which was an incredibly difficult task that had consumed all his spare time since he was a child. Keeping track of every speck of space that had ever fallen to the planet. Most would be meteorites, just pieces of space that entered the atmosphere, but one of them had to be the singular object he had consumed himself looking for the piece of himself that went missing when he died. That's all he really needed.

Oh, good, still monologuing. What a useful way to spend the afternoon instead of working. Q rolled his eyes at himself and leaned back over his computer to erase the meaningless text he had written before and pull up several tabs of work related inquiries. He blamed Bond for distracting him. If he could have managed to hold onto any of the equipment Q gave him, he wouldn't be thinking about any of this. He would be working in a content mood instead of the contemptuous one he was currently in. He should have attached that bungee. Or changed the palm-coding on the gun. He could only imagine the look on Bond's face if he did. Such plans would have to be saved for next time Q supposed. Though, perhaps next time Bond will have worn out this phase of desiring to know every detail about Q and he will not need to chastise him at all.

Q doubted it. Give an inch, take a mile. Bond would be back with more questions. He didn't know any better. Q would respond with more answers. Maybe he didn't know any better either.


	2. Chapter 2

Bond was back. It had been two weeks since the last time they had met and Bond was triumphantly parading through Q-Branch to proudly show Q his gun, which he had incredibly managed to hold onto for the entirety of his mission. He was a little to smug about managing to hang onto the weapon, with vexed Q to no end. Of course he had wanted the gun returned, but look what it had cost him.

"Thank you for managing one time to hold onto the equipment I gave you. I suppose you're feeling quite proud of yourself, but you shouldn't be. This is how it should always be after you return from a mission." Q was re-evaluating the weapon, trying to find something wrong with it to scold the 00 for.

"I looked up your name while I was in Paris." Bond mentioned. Q felt a sigh build up in the base of his lungs.

"Fascinating. Did you also look up my horoscope while away? Glad to see the money spent to send you off is being well spent." The Quartermaster looked even closer at the gun to discern possible inconsistencies with how it had left his hands two weeks ago.

"Are you named after the angel?" Pause. Q stopped looking at the gun to see if Bond was asking in earnest. He seemed to be.

"Probably." Qemuel said at last, handing the weapon back to the field agent. "My Father was pretty religious." That was an understatement.

"Not the best choice of name in terms of angels. Qemuel was the only angel ever destroyed by God." Bond explained before he seemed to notice a distinct change in Q's features. Q straightened his back his hand twitched. His whole demeanor changed from momentarily put-out to completely frozen. "Also his flower of association was a tiger lily." The moment passed, and Q was almost back to himself.

"I'll be sure to take that into consideration the next time I don't garden." The Quartermaster replied as he placed the weapon he was previously inspecting back into its box, which, miracle of miracles, was also returned to in perfect condition. Yet there was a tension about the office which affected both Bond and Q. "Any other ever-inspiring tidbits regarding my moniker?"

He knew Bond could tell something was wrong, but he could try and lighten the mood. He hoped Bond would bite. Qemuel never allowed himself to think too long on his death. He remembered everything, and forgot nothing, but that instance was one he wished would disappear. Where does an angel go if it dies? Purgatory is not the place, and Hell is too high a privilege. Instead Q simply stopped existing. For hundreds of years he was nothing, less than nothing. To not exist is something beyond description and remembering it is like remembering a dream for a flash of a second and then forgetting it again, an infuriating sensation that makes the stomach clench and a head-ache appear. Making a metaphor out of the event made Q feel less alone in the universe, but there are no people alive who could recall their death, and none who had ever stopped existing entirely. Then again Bond couldn't know that. He probably wasn't even religious.

"Well, your soul colour is gold." Bond added. Q dropped the box he was about to hand to Bond.

"What?" Q shot back, more aggressive than inquisitive.

"Your… Soul colour. Does that mean something to you?" Bond repeated as Q continued to stare at him. Q was looking to see if Bond was dropping hints about something. Maybe this was all some plot formed by his Father, or Michael, and he was falling for it, telling James his name and letting him question him. But the field agent looked a perplexed as anyone would be. Still no reason to rule out suspicion.

"I don't believe in that." Qemuel said at last, picking up the black box he previously dropped. Terrible lie. He really wasn't going to cover this well.

"In souls?" James asked.

"In souls. In angels. In any of it." Qemuel was getting snappish with Bond again and he didn't like it. But why did he have to ask so many questions, about so many seemingly irrelevant things? To Bond it would mean nothing. So why ask? What was drawing him towards these questions?

As Q was narrating in his head Ms. Moneypenny entered, without knocking of course, and stood inside the doorway.

"Oh, you're both in here. Excellent. Mallory wants to see you two." Bond and Q were taken aback. What did that mean? Q had never been summoned to M's office unless it was for a Q-Branch report and update. Other than that he stayed where he was. Now summoned? With Bond? This tasted of disaster.

Bond looked unimpressed. His top lip was curled up just slightly and his head tilted to one side in annoyance. Sighing, the field agent headed towards the door. The arse was probably summoned hundreds of times. He could get away with anything though, which was a privilege he exercised far too often.

"You too, Mr. Q." Eve motioned out the door she was still holding while Bond casually strolled out. Q grudgingly followed James, with Moneypenny close behind and the trio departed Q-Branch together, making the brief walk to the main office of the recently appointed M. Eve walked through with Bond and Q before stopping at her own desk.

"This is where I leave you, boys." She said, getting comfortable in her own chair. "You can just go in. And 007, please behave." Bond sneered while Q stepped in front of him, preparing to open to door. Bond finally stepped behind Q, and the Quartermaster noticed he was standing a little closer than people typically were supposed to, and Q was trying to get enough distance so his wings didn't brush up against the 00 before they entered the room.

"You have to open it to go in." Bond murmured just loud enough for Q to hear. Q rolled his eyes. Of course he was planning on opening the door.

"I know." He hissed back. That sounded like it had more bite inside his head. The point got across anyhow, but Bond still snickered. Pulling the door open Q saw Mallory leaning against his desk, paperwork in hand, his head turning to view the two guests entering his office. What, did he pose like that before Bond and him walked in? No one stood like that on a regular basis.

"Gentlemen, you can remain standing, this will not take long. You two are going to Cardiff."

"Excuse me?" Q was immediate in his response. He was certainly not going anywhere.

"It's not Egypt, Q," M said absently as he wandered away from his desk. "Just a drive to Wales."

"And why would I need Q with me?" Bond objected.

It's not that Qemuel wanted to go, but Bond sounding so unenthusiastic about his accompanying him almost made him feel like listing the reasons why he was certainly qualified to go as well.

"A valid question. The woman we have been tracking, Penelope Wright, is an unexperienced hacker who has somehow acquired confidential information regarding MI6's agents. She is planning on selling them wirelessly in one day. We have fairly strong information given the foolish online bids she was collecting that the unknown bidder we have created, that will be you Bond, is going to win and be given the information."

"So we take her out, and get the information. I'm not seeing the-" Bond interjected.

"Let me finish." M interrupted "The information is saved on her computer… somewhere. She is a talented computer expert, if a green one. So the files she pirated could be saved to more places than just her computer. She could have them encoded in files on other computers, in alternate drives, et cetera. 007, you will convince Penelope to meet you in person so you can receive the information there. Stay with her for the rest of the day, or however long it takes for Q to see if it has been copied or sent to anyone else. Find any system she has put the information on and remove it. Then we will take her into custody."

"Custody? Not usually how we run things." Bond said dissatisfied. Q appeared unhappy as well. M obviously didn't understand how coding and hacking worked. Still, Q understood the idea.

"Not usually how you run things," Mallory retorted. "An agent taking out a harmless 20-something year old who got caught up in stealing and selling confidential information is hardly going to boost support for MI6." Bond rolled his eyes in the most subtle of ways while Q contemplated everything that could go wrong.

"Why can't Bond just send me the information while I'm here?" Q said, trying not to sound like he was complaining, even though that was exactly what he was doing.

"Bond is not transmitting the information to you digitally," M continued." You will be present when he receives the information and handle everything you need to there. That information cannot be processed any more than it needs to."

"But I could-"

"Q, this is non-negotiable. You are going. Both of you have one hour to get ready, bring anything you need." Q twisted his tongue in his mouth, absolutely sure Bond was smirking. This was certainly going to cut into valuable shooting-star research time. Not that finding that right star was time sensitive, but the sooner Qemuel could return to Heaven and resume his past life, the better. "A car has been arranged drive you both to your hotel in Cardiff. More information will be relayed on the way." All of this was said with his back turned. This was evidently an invitation to leave. Q held back a sigh as he turned on his heel to exit. Bond followed close behind once again as the two meandered out of the office.

"This will be your first field mission." Bond seemed far too pleased by Q's discomfort. "It's high time someone showed you how insignificant your job would be without the 00's." Incorrigible arse.

"If my job were so insignificant, why do you need me to go with you on a mission?" Q stuttered, trying to come up with some form of retort that didn't only sound good in his head. "Perhaps it is because the higher order is starting to realize just how much you rely on us at Q-Branch." Bond snuffled a laugh as the two began to travel down another corridor.

"If that's what you have to tell yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

Several hours had passed and the two were still going at one another as the assigned car they were in pulled up to hotel that cost as much to stay in as several of Q's computers. Not the he was complaining. He would be glad simply to get out of the vehicle. His wings were folded so tight against his back as they became more and more crushed against the car seat during the ride that he couldn't bear to stay in this position for any longer. Bond, of course, had made himself quite at home for the entire trip, and seemed indifferent to the idea of getting out off or staying inside the car. At long last the car reached a complete stop and Q was able to exit the automobile. What possessed humans to create small vessels in which to parade themselves from one place to another was beyond Q's understanding. Regardless, the field agent eventually clamored out of the car as well and walked beside Qemuel as the pair entered through the pristinely polished revolving doors.

"Welcome to the upper class, Q." Bond said as irritating as possible. It was astounding though, the amount of detail that had gone into this building, and amount of money. More than anyone should ever be able to afford.

"Durmstang."

"What?"

"It's not Q. It's Earnest Durmstang. Did you even read the case file?"

"I usually do that once I've arrived at my room."

"You are incorrigible. Yes, hello, we're here to check in." Q and Bond had arrived at the front desk and Q was busy sorting out the checking-in portion of the afternoon. Afterwards they made their way up the elevator to the room the two would be sharing. Apparently economizing meant one two-bed suite. Q wouldn't mind if he didn't believe that Bond would most likely be taking this woman, Penelope, back to the room. Mallory probably did this as payback for arguing with him.

"You're gawking again." Bond said directly into Q's ear as he walked past.

"I'm glancing with interest."

"Sure." James agreed, smiling. Of course Qemuel was gawking. This suite was bigger than his apartment. Maybe he could play this out a little longer than necessary. Pretend it was taking longer to track down any other copies. No, he had important things to do that required his return. His aching wings reminded him. Once Bond was safely tucked into his room to change, or shower, if field agents did that once in a while, he could stretch them out. But Bond apparently had other plans.

"Where should we eat dinner?" James asked.

"We?"

"Yes. Us." Bond responded. He seemed to be searching through one of those handy restaurant guides the hotel management was so kind as to leave around a room. Q remained standing by the window, not sure what to make of the request.

"Why?"

"And you complained that I asked to many questions. To eat food. I'm hungry, I haven't eaten since before we left. This place looks decent." Bond motioned to a restaurant in the guide and Q moved closer to peer at it, and then laughed, seeing some of the advertised prices.

"It must be nice being the upper-class. The food probably costs more than, well, me." Bond looked up to stare at Q.

"I wasn't suggesting we use our money. MI6 provides us with some for necessities." The 00 told him expectantly.

"How much? And why wasn't I told?" Q inquired.

"It was in the case file. Maybe you were too busy getting used to your stage name."

"Shut up." Q said half-heartedly. Bond kept laughing instead. "Well, you can go out and eat. I'm getting room service." Bond looked pensive.

"Hadn't thought of that. I'll check what they have." Bond said as he picked up the hotel menu that had rested on the table next to the restaurant guide and began to peruse it. He seemed impressed, then handed the pamphlet over to Q, who was put out by Bond just inviting himself.

"Pick what you want." He told Q. Grudgingly Q glanced through the menu. Chicken Tikki Masala. If done right that could be decent. Qemuel pointed to it vaguely and handed it back to Bond. He could make the order if he was so inclined to do something. Q would have none of it. He didn't even want to be here. His back ached from crushing his poor precious wings and the longer they were stuck still the longer it would take to stretch the cramps out.

Again, however, Bond had much more detailed plans. The food arrived and the two ate together, talking of nonsense and useless details. The only moment they spent apart was late in the evening when they headed to bed.

The next morning Bond was up exceptionally early. Not as early a Q, though, who had been up all night, getting more and more frustrated as the evening progressed. He was making no progress in his own studies. He wanted his own computers, with all his progress, not his laptops with their limited capacity. Trying to distract himself he pulled up the website listed in the case file, making absolutely certain the fake bidder MI6 had set up was winning the bidding war.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bond asked, strolling into Qemuel's room like if he owned the place, before bending over Q's shoulder to view his screen.

"Looks like you're about to come into some highly classified intelligence." Q responded, showing James the screen with the bidding.

"No kidding. How high are we up to?"

"20 million."

"That's it?"

"Well, it only started three hours ago." Q tried to sound as unimpressed and easy going as Bond was. A long sigh escaped Bond as he found a chair and pulled up next to Q.

"How much longer until I meet her?"

"It goes on until 1. The way this is going you're going to get a call when you win. Tell her to meet you at-"

"I know." Bond interrupted. "I read the file last night. What were you doing?" Star gazing. It was infuriating how much useless matter fell from the sky into the atmosphere. Positively excruciating trying to weed through all of the trash to find anything valuable. Still it eluded him. How could it still remain unfound? It has been years since Q's half fell. The other half must have fallen already too. He's just missing it, somehow.

Last night the horrifying thought he'd had since childhood starting building back up at full intensity. Once in a while a fear Q couldn't control returned, fluctuating between being overwhelming and all enclosing, returned to remind him of the worst thought imaginable. Today felt like one of those moments of impossible questioning. What if what he's searching for isn't missing? What if it's dead? Maybe there is nothing to find in the night sky. It could have been destroyed a long time ago with the rest of his angelic self. Gone forever.

"Q?" Qemuel jumped as Bond waved a hand in his face. Shit, he was doing it again. Shit, he shouldn't be thinking about this. This isn't the place.

"Give me a second." Q pushed his way past Bond to the bathroom and locked the door.

Maybe he can never be whole again. Maybe he's been looking at the sky all these years, waiting for nothing. Nothing to be found; nothing to be done. Stuck as a human for the rest of his life. Too many questions surrounded his existence. What about death? Does he go to heaven, because he is still an angel, or does he go to Hell, because God destroyed him for a reason? Then why did he come back? How come his Father couldn't destroy him completely? Or what if he could and he brought Q back anyway? But to what end? To live without completion? To die and go where angels are not welcome? To die again?

"Qemuel?" Bond was at the door. He was using his real name. "We have one more hour. Are you going to be ready to go?"

"What?"

"To go." The agent answered delicately. "Are you going to be alright to go to check for copies of the information?" One hour? How long had he been in the bathroom? Q stood up, breathing heavily, one hand running through his soaking hair. His whole body was drenched in sweat. This hadn't happened in a long while. He had one hour to get ready. Q was practicing breathing when Bond opened the door.

"What happened?" Q turned away sharply.

"Nothing. I just got overwhelmed, that's all. I don't- I'm not-" He couldn't think of a lie fast enough. 'Not meant to be here' was all he could think of. Not meant to be on earth, not meant to be human, not meant to be desperately pressing his wings down flat on his back.

"M shouldn't have sent you. You're not trained for this." Bond told him. Q gave a noncommittal hum, not knowing how else to respond. "Come here." Bond motioned out the door.

"No, I need a shower, and I need to get ready." The quartermaster explained as he stepped towards the shower, preparing to turn it on before James grabbed his arm.

"No, you need to sit down and drink something. You're going to get dehydrated if you keep sweating like that."

"Not if I'm in the shower." Q replied.

"Just, get over here." Bond, almost forcefully, towed Q away from the bathroom and sat him back down at his computer. Q could see Bond had been monitoring the progress of the betting. They had won, and it appeared Bond had started quite a lengthy conversation with this Penelope. The two seemed quite agreed to meet in person. Well, that's a good start. Bond eventually returned with a glass of water which he gave to Qemuel.

"Sip, don't-"

"I know. Thank you." Q said it sarcastically, but meant it almost genuinely. He sat there, taking in small selections of water while scrolling through the entirety of the Bond-Penelope conversation.

"Now you can take a shower. You have 40 minutes. If you're going, that is." Bond was implying more than asking.

"Of course I'm going. I just had a momentary lapse. I'll get ready." Bond looked like he was going to say something, but changed his mind, shut his mouth, and returned to the computer. Focusing all his willpower on keeping Heaven and falling and dying out of his mind, Q made it through his shower, and managed to get changed in a timely fashion as well.

"Are you sure you're-"

"Yes." With a curt response Q moved swiftly past Bond on his way out the door of the room. Nothing felt alright. Nothing. But he had work to do. He felt sick and embarrassed, particularly because Bond had been there. Usually he was by himself when these things happened. He might not have minded if it didn't matter to him so much that Bond respect him. Or did, until 40 minutes ago when he watched Q flip out over nothing. Now he was just coddling him like a child. Like he needed protection.

They said nothing to each other as they headed out to the car. Q was on his phone the entire time, checking to make sure Penelope hadn't changed her mind, or the location. Bond had the decency to remain silent the rest of the way. Q got close to saying something every once in a while, debating breaking the tension, but changed his mind. Why did this feel so awkward? But also, why couldn't he wait until he was safe at his apartment before having an existential crisis? He wished he could tell Bond. No reason why, really. Maybe just to have somebody else know.

The rest of the afternoon happened quite fast. Q and Bond got to the restaurant just in time to meet Penelope as she walked in. The only way to describe her was 'ish'. Pretty-ish, short-ish, nice-ish. Brilliant, though, that was evident. Q, or rather Earnest Durmstang, shut his mouth through the entirety of the evening. Bond flirted shamelessly with Penelope as his quartermaster checked and re-checked every variation of coding encrypted in the files from hexadecimal to HTML to find any traces of any copies being pulled from the software. Weirdly enough, none turned up. That bothered Q. This woman seemed competent and highly intelligent. Why not make a copy? Why did this feel so off?

Bond felt it too, Q was sure. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen. For Q to make some motion that a copy had been found or that another transfer had been made. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. How peculiar.


	4. Chapter 4

After much alcohol and flirtation Bond was finally ready to leave. With Penelope of course.

"Stay here." He ordered, his arm wrapped around the public enemy's waist. Q could feel something was off though. Q wasn't a field agent and he knew it was odd to make no copies. He could tell this wasn't the way an operation usually went. Suppose it usually ended in gunfire, but that was typically after evidence of foul-play, other than the original crime, was discovered.

This was simply infuriating. Perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. Impossible. He had gone into every section of the code and searched for fingerprints, digitally and manually, and still nothing. It was just like his own research. Nothing to find. Nothing to prove. His breathing was picking up again. Maddening how fast human beings get consumed by their emotions. It was different before. He'd had feelings of course, but not his kind. Not the bad kind.

Q opened the eyes he was started to realize he had closed with enough time to see Bond and Penelope leave the restaurant, still talking playfully. Then something bizarre, though somewhat anticipated happened at last to pull Q from his unearthly puttering. Someone pulled out a gun.

It was the maître de. From inside his jacket he pulled out a well-polished revolver, likely full of ammunition, and pointed it directly at Qemuel. He didn't bother pulling the trigger right away, but instead walked right up to the table, slow and calm. He thought Q was just going to accept defeat and death. He thought he was just the technical support. He assumed Q was going to be the easiest kill of the day. What an absolute moron.

"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."

"What?" The armed man said, pausing. Fool should've shot Q when he was lost in thought.

It was one movement and Q was standing up with his wings outstretched, though only he would know it. The maître de tried to shoot several times but Q jammed the gun. He didn't have all his angelic power, or any of it really, but fate could be manipulated always by those who knew how to use it.

The gunman then threw down the gun to grab another from his coat but Q was not the type to waste time walking towards a man destined to die. He preferred to be further away. As the man searched for his gun Q moved his wings, which filled more of the space than the tables, just slightly beneath man's feet. With no grace, or tact, he tripped over the boned wing, flipped backwards, and with the misfortune of a sinner, cracked his skull on the edge of his own podium.

This was the moment Q remembered just what it was exactly that he missed about being a full-fledged angel. It was also the minute he remembered there were other people in the restaurant. Additionally, and more importantly, he remembered Bond as he had strutted off with Penelope. Forgetting the two other remembered aspects, Qemuel pulled his wings back to his body and ran for the exit.

It wasn't hard spotting Bond, surprising enough. He stood out somehow, yet for no reason at all. He was standing on a bridge with Penelope. From a distance they looked like they could be embracing, her arms on his shoulders, whispering something in his ear. But Q knew better. She was telling him something unpleasant.

Bond was about to die.

Q could see the glimmer of a gun. He could almost hear the well-planned victory monologue being told the only occasion it could be told on. He wondered momentarily what hers was like. Blast, he should have brought an earpiece for himself. Why was Bond the only one who'd gotten one? All the agents got their own supplied to them, but Q had always used a speaker, and hadn't gotten one that was custom fit. This was such a sloppy assignment! If he'd been back at Q-Branch-

But he wasn't. He was dashing forward, filled with adrenaline from just killing a man and probably traumatizing all the other patrons of the restaurant, to go rescue the only human in existence he could tolerate. Now was a rare opportunity to look at one's life in perspective.

"Bond!" He shouted uselessly as soon as he got close enough to be heard. Penelope Wright took a running start after she saw Q, not that he knew why. Maybe anger suited him. His wings raised high above his head then swept down with all the strength he could force. No chance of being subtle this time. They came crashing down on either side of the woman then clasped together around her with an audible clap, crushing her between them.

Qemuel pulled his wings away after several seconds to watch her body hit the floor. Was she dead? Doesn't matter. Q shifted his focus over to Bond whose lip was bleeding and hands were cuffed to the bridge.

"What the Hell happened!" Q was shouting. He was on a high and it forced more words from his mouth than he might have intended. "How _dare_ you leave that restaurant without me! How dare you order me! Obviously you couldn't handle this on your own! Where is your gun!? Where is all your training!? We could have both died!" Q expected some kind of response, but Bond kept staring at him.

"Wings."

"What?" How could he possibly infer that from what had just happened? It was then Q noticed his wings were no longer invisible. It'd been so long since he had actually seen them. He'd forgotten how immense and beautiful they were when they swayed in the wind. Or how delicate they looked in the sunlight. Within seconds Bond had picked the lock of his handcuffs and approached the one nearest him.

It was quiet again. How often that happened between the two of them.

"What are you?"

Q didn't say anything. This mood of his was shifting too fast. What happened now? What does someone say? "My name's Qemuel."

Q remembered their conversation in his office. Bond told him about his name. Seems so far away now. Bond's breathe came out in short puffs, like he'd been running for a long while. His chest rose and fell deeply each time he took in more air.

"I don't-" James started. It was the first time Q had ever seen Bond struggle with a sentence. "You're actually-"

"Well, not officially. Not anymore-" Q answered the unspoken question, already anticiipating this was going to be a complicated conversation.

"So all that about not believing-"

"It's complicated-"

"I gathered."

"Good."

"Not officially?"

"I can't really explain it-"

"Try." Bond was giving Q an order.

"No." He said. He wanted Bond to know. He had thought about that this morning. But this wasn't how he imagined it. He had pictured Bond just knowing without the words ever having to leave Q's mouth.

"Well, I already read all about Qemuel on my last mission," Bond stated. "I want your version."

"What's your version?" Q asked, having never got around to Googling himself. Seemed too arrogant truth be told.

"I told you. He was the only angel God ever destroyed."

"What for?" Qemuel pressed on.

"Why the hell are you asking me?" Bond responded, clearly confused.

"Well you seem to know everything about me. My history and flower and everything else."

"Soul color." Bastard. Now he was just looking for a reaction. Well, he wasn't going to get one.

"Yes, and that."

"Say it." Bond insisted.

"No."

"Why?" Q folded his wings as quick as he could before turning around to walk away. He didn't care if Penelope was dead or not. Let her pop back to life and shoot James Bond, the impetulant field agent with his questions and reasons. He should have escaped with his life. He should have run the other direction, towards the car, back home to his computers all set to search the sky for falling objects.

Bond wasn't having any of it. He was faster than Q anyhow, so reaching the quartermaster wasn't a problem. His rough hand extended out and snatched at one of the singed white wings and gripped it hard, forcing Q to look back.

"Let me go." Q ordered.

"You tell me who you are, and what you're doing here and I might."

"Might!? What is wrong with you?" Qemuel expected an answer. He wasn't going to get one. Bond clutched to Q's wing tighter. They were weak, and it wouldn't take much to rip some feathers out. Wouldn't take much to tear the whole wing off. Did Bond have enough strength? Did it matter? Could it hurt to tell him?

"There was a war in Heaven." Q started. Bond nodded, his grip loosening. "It was Michael versus Lucifer. Michael and his angels wanted Christ to be the savior. Lucifer thought he should be. He thought if he went he could give salvation to everyone. I was on his side. Lucifer's, that is. I was just a no one in his army, there were so many of us then, but we lost. God punished all of Lucifer's angels and cast them all to earth."

"But not you."

"I- He wanted an example. Also I was a bit of a gobshite, but I did some greater evils during the war. Some unforgivables, same as most of my siblings. I just got caught. So he tried to destroy me. Well, he killed me, actually." Q remembered dying, just not death. He didn't know where he'd gone, or if he had gone anywhere at all. That scared him. But Bond didn't need to hear any of that.

"Seem pretty well off for a dead man." Bond urged him on.

"Well, I came back. Kind of. It was… a rare circumstance. See, angels don't have… souls." The word came out hard and difficult to pronounce. "We just don't. They're purely human in their existence. But, for some reason, I had one. So God couldn't kill me, he could just split my soul. So, when half of it fell to the earth I returned. Part human, of course. None of my former glory."

"What about the other half." Bond asked.

"No, I told you the part I promised to tell, everything else is irrelevant."

"No, it's not. I said you tell me who you are and what you're doing here." The agent demanded.

"I said it! I am Qemuel, I am here because I can't go back. All the other fallen angels don't remember Heaven. All the other regular angels think I'm dead. I'm stuck."

"I don't believe that." The field agent said, finally letting his hand fall. He wasn't acting the way Q had expected him too. In all honesty Q was expecting Bond to try and kill him. He just seemed upset. Not even angry. "What happened to the other half?"

"Excuse me?"

"Of your soul." Bond explained. "You said it split. You found half, that's how you came back? So where did the other half go?" Another break. It was irritating, all that silence. Not just the presence of it but the type. Q was used to the quiet. He found comfort sitting alone typing layers of code. He usually preferred there to be no sound during the late hours in his office. But this quiet was too awkward. It was more like Bond wanted to know everything about him and Qemuel didn't know how to explain it all. He couldn't even understand why Bond would want to know. What purpose does a 00 have with information about an angel?

"Why are you so interested?" Q asked, changing the subject slightly. "In what way does any of this revolve around you?"

"It doesn't, I just want to know." He said.

"And on that note why doesn't any of this seem to shock you? You seem to have just accepted that I was an angel with no arguments. Why?"

"I don't know." Bond shrugged. "I thought there was something different about you. I knew it the first time I meet you. At the museum. You were off in some way."

"Off?"

"Mm." Bond hummed, continuing to look at the wings. Q couldn't blame him. They were glorious. "So, what about your soul?"

"I… don't know." Q answered. He didn't want to talk about that. That was obvious from all past intrusions on the subject.

"It has something to do with space though." Bond suggested. Q's face changed abruptly.

"How could you possibly know that?" His wings lifted in anticipation. What else did he know on the matter?

"Relax, I saw it on your computer this morning. You keep too many tabs up."

"Too many- Excuse me, I think I know the proper amount of tabs to keep up. What, you put together two lines of inquiry to form a correct assumption and suddenly you know more about computers than I do?" Q couldn't get through his whole rant because Bond had started laughing halfway through. "Is this funny to you? My reputation could be at stake! Don't you dare start telling anyone you know better than I do about computers! They'd just laugh at you anyway." Qemuel was trying to sound serious be he cracked a smile anyway.

"Well, now I have to tell the whole Q-Branch. It's at the top of my to-do list."

"Since when have you ever made a list for anything in your life?" Q inquired, overly interested in hearing the answer.

"Shopping."

"You do the shopping!?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I phone in the order and the shop delivers in to me." Bond replied with a grin. It was almost uncanny how fast the conversation had changed. Bond did it purposefully, same as Q. But they would have to transition back eventually. This had to be discussed. Qemuel's wings were hard to avoid. After a long release of air 007 returned his gaze to to the feathers devices.

"Better hid those again. Someone could come round any minute." Q stared at them with an inquisitive look. He couldn't understand why they appeared in the first place. Still, he concentrated his energy of their disappearance from sight. It was harder this time to let make them fade. It was like they wanted to be seen. Bond watched the whole time, evidently comfortable with the whole business. "We should get back to the restaurant. She had another man there to kill you-"

"I know." Q interjected. Bond, who had begun walking back the way they had come turned around to give what seemed like a sneer to Q.

"You know? Meaning you dealt with it?" A smug grin popped onto the quartermasters face.

"Yes. While you were busy preparing to die I was occupied saving both our lives. You can thank me later. I expect a gift with that thank you. I like dark chocolate, but never destroying another weapon I give you ever would be quite enough." Self-satisfied he strolled past Bond, making absolutely certain to whack him with one of his wings along the way. It was a nice feeling to have at least one person know who he was. He would tell Bond the rest of his story later. Right now was a time for gloating.


	5. Chapter 5

Q clacked away at his keyboard sending a lengthy message to M about how the events of the previous day had transpired. He should have done it last night, but he fell asleep the instant he arrived at the hotel and only woke up an hour ago. They were supposed to have checked out of the room yesterday but Bond had apparently convinced the front desk to charge them for another night. M wouldn't be pleased, but then it was his fault the whole operation had turned into a disaster, so it was only fair really.

"What are you telling them?" Q heard the voice and whipped his head over his shoulder to see Bond leaning against the door in a towel. Undignified scoundrel. Where there were no clothes anywhere on his way from the shower to the living room?

"I'm linking them a copy of the Holy Bible so they can pray for the answers." Bond snorted and leaned over Q to read what had been typed. It was mostly true. Penelope was not looking to sell information but take down an MI6 agent. She had taken off with Bond and left Q with another assailant. Here was where the invented lies began. In this version the man who tried to shoot Q tripped and tragically cracked his skull on his podium giving Q a chance to run. Bond took down Penelope by throwing her over the bridge and into the river, which Bond actually did right before the two left the bridge. They were small lies, and still gave a good idea of the events the had transpired up until the current time. Bond nodded as he read it.

"Good." He walked about the room before flopping onto the sofa, picking up the menu to order food again. "Are you getting the Masala again?" At least he asked.

"Yes." Q said. He knew why Bond was getting food. He wanted to pick up their conversation where they'd left off on the bridge. Qemuel wanted to try and get out of more talking as the subject was starting to bore him to death, but it was all new to Bond.

Eventually the food arrived and Q was forced to remove himself from his computer to eat and have a conversation, which did not seem so wholly unpleasant, just hard to describe.

"I imagine you're going to ask me more about the other half." Bond nodded, but didn't interrupt. He knew better. People tend to talk more when they are left to just keep going. "I told you that I found half, but that isn't really the right way to say it. It found me. Did you ever read the New Testament?" Bond nodded a little. He probably didn't remember. "Well, there's a part that talks about the War in Heaven. It describes the angels as stars that were swept out of the sky. One third of us were sent down, I separate, but when they well they fell as stars. I did too. Well, a part of my soul did. I landed and was born and grew up, like all the rest, but I still kept my wings."

Bond listened the whole time, eating his steak as quietly as possible so he wouldn't have to ask Q to repeat himself. Q thought a moment, trying to figure out how to say what he was saying. He'd never verbalized the story, so attempting to tell someone had the possibility of being an indiscernible mess.

"If I had fallen like the rest of them I think i would have been a full angel, because of this soul of mine. But because I was killed first I didn't. Anyway the other part of my soul probably fell, or is going to fall the same way I did. As a meteor. It might have already fallen for all I know, but I haven't found it yet. I will find it; of course, it's just taking more time that I thought." That seemed like the whole of things. Bond looked like he was mulling everything he'd been told over.

"What if you don't? Find it." Bond inquired. Q hesitated.

"You mean if it isn't there to find?" He didn't like this question. He didn't like thinking about the idea that that part of himself was gone. It's like he was carrying some dead around inside him without it. He could survive without it, but he couldn't really live. Angels are meant to be angels, and if they fall they are humans. There isn't supposed to be an in between. "I don't know."

"So, what would you like me to do?" Bond offered.

"What?"

"To help. What should I do?"

"Help? Why? Do you want to?" Q asked, shocked beyond belief.

"Yes. I wouldn't ask you about it if I didn't plan to do something to help." Bond finished eating and downed his glass of wine and began pouring another. Q took some as well, pondering the request.

"I research everything that has fallen from space, and everything that is currently falling from space." Q explained. "It's arduous. A lot of junk comes down to earth from space, and most of it is worthless. It might have fallen before me, or after me, or not yet at all, so everything has to be looked at."

"Alright, what site do you use?"

"The British Space Programmes private databases."

"Of all the illegal things I could imagine you doing, stealing information on space shit wasn't one of them."

"Well, now it's an illegal thing were doing, so get used to it." Q said, raising his glass to take another drink.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing other subjects, but they always got back to Q, and his wings and his soul and how they were going to find it. For the first time after a long while of absolute doubt and inexpressible fear Q actually believed they were going to find it. He was starting to understand that for some impossible reason he trusted in James Bond more than he trusted in himself.

The next day they were packed and out by nine, a rental car prepared to pick them up and deliver them to MI6. Bond told Q to expect and earful from M. Q wasn't sure how to feel about that. He didn't like, nor was he used to getting being told off by others. He and M had managed to maintain an impersonal working relationship, and he didn't want that sullied. Not that is was even their fault to begin with. MI6 clearly hadn't done enough research on Penelope Wright before they sent out an agent and the bloody quartermaster to handle the situation.

Q fidgeted in the car, same as before. His wings hurt and his back ached from keeping them behind him. It occurred to him a third of the way through that he really needn't keep them totally crunched up.

"Bond." Q's voice was low, but the driver wasn't paying attention to the two of them anyway.

"Mm." Bond wasn't really listening either apparently.

"Would mind if I…" Q shrugged his shoulders in reference. The field agent looked confused, and then seemed to get it.

"They won't stretch very far. But no, I don't mind." He said. Sitting up straighter Q flexed the appendages out just enough to circle the backseat area. The one on the right flopped onto Bond's lap, which he noticed, but let it remain. It felt sort of nice, just relaxing inside the car, his wings bent to fill every open space of the backseat. He might get used to automobiles. Automatically Q looked over to search Bond's reaction. He seemed to be trying to comprehend which part of the wing was touching him and where the rest of it was in relation. His eyes darted over every surface of the interior, figuring out logistically where each section might be. Q couldn't help but smile. How strange for Bond to act like it was a normal occurrence, to have a wing lounging on his legs. It was comforting how little it seemed to bother him.

At MI6 Q shuffled himself back into position and got out of the car first. Bond followed him into the building and M's office, mirroring the last time they had been there. This time, however, Bond stepped in front of Q before going in the doors Moneypenny had once again directed them to.

M wasn't leaning on his desk this time. He looked more normal actually, Q noted, in his chair, frowning over several documents.

"Ah, right. Well, that mission didn't quite go as planned. I got your write-up Q, which I will say was perhaps more a surprise than what happened on the mission. I have never once received any documentation for missions 007 goes on, so it was a refreshing change."

"Are we just going to ignore the part where you sent us into a mission without any idea what this Penelope actually wanted?" Bond said it almost as a joke, but sincerity was in every word. M looked more displeased, if possible.

"Yes, that was a mistake on our part, but obviously nothing you couldn't manage. No one said this job wasn't dangerous."

"Not in my computer lab it isn't." Q muttered, but M overheard.

"Q, I understand you didn't wish to go, but it is in your job to go where MI6 requires you to be. You agreed to allow us to put you into danger. So you can quit your complaining." Q ignored Mallory's face and turned to look at the painting behind his desk.

"So who was she?"

"Well, we really don't know. She seems to be some faceless member of an unknown organization. A small one, but clearly an intelligent one. We'll keep an eye on it in the future." M seemed totally unphased by the idea that his Quartermaster and a 00 could have been killed due to MI6's negligence. Bond wasn't entirely perturbed either, appearing to have expected such a response. Q was on the fence. While he was perfectly capable of defending himself when the time called, M didn't know that! If Q was human he could be dead right now. Bond as well, for that matter. Where did M get this idea that because everything worked out alright everything was alright? Still, he would have to be irritated in silence. If he opened his mouth he might get sent on another away mission, which didn't suit him at all.

M dismissed both of them shortly afterwards, sending Q off to work immediately, as it should be, and Bond off for more rigorous testing of his field agent capabilities. Bond was smirking on his way out the door.

"What?" Q asked, expecting an irritating answer.

"You," was all Bond replied with.

"Me? What have I done?"

"Your face the entire time. You looked so… disgusted." The agent half-laughed as he described it.

"Well I was. An apology for risking my life would have been nice."

"I never get any apologies."

"Yes, well, you're not worth as much as I am." Q said.

"Of course." Bond was still smiling. They parted ways at the end of the hall, and continued their days uneventfully. Q was delighted to be back in his office, with its computers, half-finished gadgets, and an unfortunate, empty leather chair. The Quartermaster stared at the spot he felt Bond was supposed to be sitting in. Bizarre sort of feeling. He tried to get some kind of work done, but he kept turning over to look at that ugly, vacant seat. He could go down and visit Bond, wherever he was. That would look silly though. He didn't have an actual excuse to hunt Bond down for, and a quartermaster probably wasn't meant to take day trips to visit 00s. He'd just have to wait until he found an excuse to visit on another.

That excuse came on Bond's side some four hours later when the agent appeared in Q's office for no actual reason.

"Just thought I'd drop by." Drop by? What, so he could wander the halls as he pleased? There has to be some kind of security feature that prohibited that, glad as he was to see Bond.

"Really? Of course it doesn't occur to you that I might be busy." Qemuel suggested.

"Of course not." Bond didn't argue his case any further. Apparently he willed Q to not be busy, so he mustn't be. Not that Q had gotten anything done to begin with. Just reviewing what he missed for the most part.

Not bothering to ask Bond picked up and carried one of the various laptops strewn about the desk over with him to 'his' seat.

"What, you don't ask?" Q said, exasperated,

"No." Was the agents curt reply. Incredible! Q almost wished he hadn't desired his presence at all. "I'm assuming this has the-It's already up, even better." Pulling himself towards Bond as the agent was speaking, Q poked his head around to stare at the screen, which was currently set on the British Space Programmes database detailing the history of objects which had fallen from space.

"You were being serious?" Q stammer, incredulous. He had seemed serious at the time, but then it's easy to make promises when it doesn't matter to oneself.

"Did I sound like I was lying. So what am I looking for, exactly?" Q wasn't sure what to say to that. He didn't really know.

"Something different. It will be an actual meteorite, and it will have touched the earths surface."

"About how big is it going to be?" Bond asked.

"I don't know." Q said after a moment.

"What is it going to look like?"

"I don't know."

"So, together we know nothing, is what you're telling me." Bond said, unimpressed.

"Well, yes."

"Well, what happened to you when you fell? What did that look like?" Bond asked expectantly.

"I-" Q paused. He hadn't thought of that. Shit, he hadn't even considered that.


	6. Chapter 6

Why didn't looking at his own falling even cross his mind. He was so busy avoiding being reminded of his own death that he had actually forgotten to see what it looked like when he fell.

"So you don't know that either?" Bond said, disrupting Qemuel's train of thought. Qemuel was going to say something, but Bond had already begun typing. "Then let's find out."

"Oh, um, alright, well, I was born in-"

"I know." Bond said, still tapping away, slow to be sure.

"You know?" Q inquired sceptically. The agent hummed in agreement. "You read my file. You bastard. You looked in my file!"

"I told you I was going to."

"I didn't think you were being serious."

"You seem to assume that a lot about me." Bond said to Q, turning the computer so he could lean over and look on. This role reversal was not something Q was excited about. Multiple search results popped up close to Qemuel's birth year. Well, technical birth year. The two poked around for a while until they found several results that met the specifics Q was verbally feeding Bond.

What was supposed to be several minutes turned into several hours of the pair poring over multiple computers searching for a fallen star that might have been Q.

"This one!" Q shouted, a touch too loud. "This one was me! I remember it." Excited, Q rushed over to Bond's seat and placed his laptop on top of the one the agent was looking at. James mumble-read the page as he read the details, paying specific attention to anything related to the appearance of the space rubble.

"It seems completely normal. This doesn't help us at all." Bond said, though he continued to read.

"There has to be something different. Let me look at it again." Q swiped the computer from Bond as fast as he had given it to him and scrolled through for… something. There had to be some kind of giveaway that this one was different from the others.

There!

"Lunar. It's a lunar meteorite." Q shouted a lot louder than he intended.

"What? Really? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Q explained. "My minor was in astronomy. Well one of the was. The point is, they're incredibly rare."

"I thought none had fallen in Europe." Bond said, getting the link up on his computer so he needn't crowd over Qemuel's shoulder, risking getting smacked in the face with a wing, which had happened twice since the start of this. "Or in North America."

"Apparently one has. But they didn't label it officially as one.," Q continued. "It fell completely apart before they could properly do any tests. There's not a trace of it left."

"So you're just guessing at what it was." Bond didn't look impressed.

"I don't guess. I'm positive. The scientist working on it were sure too, they just couldn't do any tests to verify it so the information couldn't officially be released." Q paused. This was the first breakthrough in his research he had ever had. All these years and finally something was happening. About time too. Lost in thought he didn't hear Bond typing out on his borrowed laptop. Caught up in reading more information on himself he didn't look up until he heard James say:

"There's another one." The quartermaster froze. Another one?

"What?"

"There's another lunar meteorite in this base. Unofficial, just like the yours because it fell apart." Q didn't say anything to that. That had to be it. It had to be the other half. Q felt bizarre all of a sudden. Of course he wanted to look and learn more and drive off and figure out what happened to it and become the whole angel he was meant to be, but something felt wrong. He couldn't understand because he had waited for this for such a long time, he should be elated, but he wasn't. He wasn't feeling melancholy was he? No, he just had a bad feeling.

Breathing in deep Q brushed it off as a condition of nerves. "Let me see. Where- um- Where was it?" Bond turned the screen. "Glencoe, Scotland," Qemuel read aloud. That funny feeling was coming back.

"Well, we'd better get packing. That's about a 10 hour drive. Get down the official coordinates." Bond said, over his shoulder as he got up to stretch. "Qemuel?"

"What? Yes, right." Q realized he had been staring blankly at the screen.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am. I'm always fine. This is good!" His hands started moving and Q was jotting down the exact location while Bond eyed him suspiciously.

"Good." The agent looked no more convinced than the quartermaster felt. "I'll tell M."

"Wait! What are you going to tell him?"

"That we're requesting a day or two off for person health. That we're following a related inquiry in relation to our previous mission. I'm not sure. I'll figure it out when I get there." Bond explained, shrugging the whole thing off as irrelevant details.

Hours later Bond had pulled up in front of Q's apartment in an overly expensive rental car. Q had more time to pack for this trip and was taking with him all the technology he could fit into his suitcases.

"I must have missed the part where you said you were moving to Glencoe," Bond said, rolling down the window to better judge Q for all the luggage he was bringing with him.

"Hilarious." Q returned loudly as he stuffed the cases in the trunk. "This is everything I need to be comfortable. What did you bring? One tuxedo and condoms: The James Bond starter pack." Bond snickered, rolling the window back up. As soon as Q got in the passenger seat Bond took off. Qemuel didn't even ask this time before filling all the space in the car with his wings, making certain to slap Bond with one of them for no reason besides the fact that he could. There was an easy comfort between the two that had not been anticipated by Q, but he was grateful for it.

The trip was shockingly normal, considering. James and Qemuel argued over the radio, stopped at gas stations, and discussed work and co-workers. They drove an hour later than they intended to in that evening because Bond hadn't made an reservations and refused to stop at anywhere he deemed beneath him.

Finally Q forced him to stop and without thinking ordered a room with two beds instead of two rooms. It would never have occurred to him to get anything else. Bond seemed to not notice either.

"Did you need to bring every suitcase in tonight? We're only here for one night." Bond laughed, watching Q haul in all his luggage.

"If you could help instead of making snide remarks we'd both be a lot better off." Q told him, struggling to pull the last one through the door jamb. Bond sneered and laid down instead. "Thanks…"

Q set up all his computers and continued doing all the work he was missing being away from MI6. Bond thought he was being ridiculous.

"I'm sure the idea of someone doing work other than shooting people is foreign to you, but some of us have real jobs." He explained, tacking away. He felt sort of guilty, being away from work for so many days, but this expedition took priority. He still had that funny feeling about all of this, but for now he was blocking it out. Now was not the time for second guessing. He had waited too long for this.

Eventually James dragged Qemuel away from his computer and forced him to sleep.

"I don't need you mother henning me. I can-"

"Of course you can." Was all Bond kept saying, not listening at all.

In bed Q couldn't get to sleep. Things were going to change tomorrow. If he found his soul he could get it back, be a full angel again, maybe exact some revenge on his brothers and sisters. But what about Bond? Would all of this, the comfortable conversation, the snickering, the pleasant feeling in his half-soul when he got to see that ridiculous agent, go away? He had been trying to not think of that since the two began spending time together. Maybe that's why his stomach ached with some unnerving doubt. Was being an angel more important than this, right now?

"Bond?" Q whispered, soft and breathy.

"Yes?"

"Nothing just… Seeing if you were still awake." Q said a little softer than before, not sure why he said anything at all.

"Are you scared?" Bond asked, turning over in his bed to face Qemuel. Q thought about it for a minute.

"I don't know." Q didn't look over as he said it. He got caught-up in staring up at the ceiling.

"That's even worse." There was a silence as Q formulated something to say to that.

"What if we're wrong and this isn't the other half?"

"Then we keep looking."

"No, what if we're totally wrong and there's nothing out there. What if it's gone? Just completely dead and we're running around looking for nothing." Q swallowed, and breathed, slow and deep, forgetting to do so while he was talking.

"Would that be so bad?" Bond murmured.

"What!?"

"Well, would it be so bad to be stuck half human? You've lived a comparatively decent life." Q didn't answer him. Wrapping his wings around himself he flipped over and considered. Would he really mind?

Q didn't know when he fell asleep, but it happened at some point, and soon enough he was waking up. Pulling all his extensive luggage back into the car, this time the with help of Bond, they were back on the road for the last few hours of their journey. They were a little more quite this time. The conversation was delicate and predictable, though still comfortable and appealing.

"So, where _exactly_ did the meteorite fall?" Bond asked, mutter afterwards "It better not be in the river."

"It wasn't in the river! I'll give you directions. Just drive." From there Q gave the directions verbatim to Bond the chauffeur. Bond, for some reason, looked more and more perplexed as he kept giving more directions, but he continued driving anyway.

"What is it?" Q inquired, noticing the abrupt facial changes.

"I'll tell you later. Keep going." Qemuel was curious, but obeyed, and proceeded with the directions. That is up until he noticed Bond anticipating what he was going to say before he said it. James was making all the correct turns without any prompting, so Q stopped giving them altogether.

"How do you know-" The quartermaster started before the car stopped. Then everything stopped. "I don't understand. This is impossible."

"Skyfall."

Qemuel stopped thinking completely, and then restarted at a faster rate than humans are capable. "You."

Bond shot him a look. "What?" Before he could say anything else Q was out of the car, sporting a smile, racing towards the meteorites precise location. Bond followed behind, but quickly caught up, easily faster than Q.

"You don't get it!" Q said, turning around as he ran, heart pounding. "When I saw this address on the database I thought it looked so familiar, I just wasn't thinking about it! The piece of my soul I've been missing did fall, but it inhabited life, just like my half did! The angel half to me, the human part- to you."

Q stopped running in front of a deep hole in the ground, different from the other assortments of burn marks.

"Here. This is it." Qemuel grabbed Bond's arm and tugged him closer to the hole. "But it's not mine. This is yours."

"I don't- I'm not-"

"I couldn't lie to you. I kept telling you about myself. I couldn't even keep my wings invisible to you. The whole universe was trying to tell me and I missed it completely!" Q was giddy. Positively elated. He was on the verge of giggling at his stupidity.

"But I don't remember anything you remember. Why would you know and not me?"

"Because you're not an angel. Angels don't have souls, but I did. Part angel, part human. You got the human bit, the part that wasn't alive in heaven. I'm so stupid! We were meant to meet each other James Bond. The whole time. In every and any universe we were supposed to end up together."

"But… But you can't become a full angel if I have the other half. You're stuck like this." James tried to explain, assembling his thoughts at a gradual speed. "You won't be whole."

Qemuel bit his lip, debating. "Of course I'll be whole." Then he grabbed Bond and pulled him to his lips for the shortest kiss imaginable. "I have you. I won't fly the way I wanted to, or go back to the way things were before, but right now I have the other half of my soul found and accounted for. That's all I needed." Bond swallowed, and arched his eyebrow.

"Dream bigger." He offered before he pulled Q back to his mouth. Qemuel's wings unraveled from his back and wrapped around James. He felt warm everywhere. No more feeling dead inside. No more fear of what had happened before. He wasted so much time searching for what he already had.

"So I'm the human half then?" Bond asked, pulling away from Q at last. Q hummed in agreement. "I still get some angelic perks though, right?"

"What the hell is an 'angelic perk'?"

"Just once I'd like to literally smite someone with the hand of God." Bond should have been joking but he sounded completely serious.

"No. You have no power to smite anyone, and neither do I, so that's out!" Q explained.

"For now."

"Bond, no!"


End file.
